(Author's Note: This story is centered around an Original Character I created for my longer story "Ancient Enemy." Since I've recently returned to updating it, I thought I would commemorate the occasion by giving her a backstory. You don't need to have read "Ancient Enemy" at all to enjoy this story, though, and in fact it might be more fun to read this first. If you're worried about the other Digidestined not being in this, rest assured they will be making some appearances. Enjoy!)

A Small Girl in a Small Town

Part 1

"Unforeseen Consequences"

Nestled among vast forests of pine, along a shallow river, and split by railroad tracks there is a small town in Ontario, Canada. On a hot August night in 1999, the citizens of this town stared up at the sky with a mixture of awe and horror as it was crisscrossed with images of another world, the Digital World, even as they heard tell of thousands of strange creatures called "digimon" invading their cities. Though at the time some loudly panicked and declared it to be the very end of the world, after the original eight Digidestined defeated Apocalymon, the threat was over and the world returned to normal.

In the coming months, information about the strange encounter with that alien world began to trickle through. For a time, the eight Digidestined became somewhat famous celebrities, but with the knowledge of the existence of digimon and the Digital World came the revelation that the door between the two became closed, quite possibly forever. In time, the adults of the world tried to more or less bury the idea, to move past it, and after almost a year, the Digital World was already becoming ancient history.

But that was not the case for some. For some, the thrill and excitement of a whole new world and new lifeforms was simply too much to let go. That hot August night, a little girl stared up at the sky with an overflowing fascination the likes of which she'd never felt before. Amazed and shaken to her core, she would never be able to look at her own life the same way again, even as her little town preferred to go back to sleep and forget the day the sky tore itself apart.

She'd already made herself a promise upon seeing the Digidestined in the sky. She was a mere nine years old at that time and she spoke the promise breathlessly to herself, but it was as serious a declaration as any man or woman could make, and neither the concerns of her parents and teachers nor the scorn and teasing of her classmates could shake her resolve. Her vow was merely this: "Some day, I'm going to be a Digidestined too..."

This is that little girl's story.

June, 2000:

Atop a mountain of defeated enemies, she stood tall and proud, her hair waving in the wind, her hands on her hips. A pair of goggles perched fashionably on her head as she looked out upon her peers, her expression one of supreme confidence and satisfaction. At the foot of this mountain were the eight Digidestined from Japan, staring up at her in adoration.

"She's amazing!" said Matt.

"And very fashionable," Mimi added with a giggle.

"A true genius!" Izzy agreed.

Tai put his hand on the back of his head, feeling a bit like he'd been put in his place. "I hate to say it, but she might be the best Digidestined ever!"

She tossed her head back and laughed. "No, no, there's no need to thank me," she said, running a hand through her hair deliberately, clearly indicating there was a need to thank her. "After all, even though I figured out their plan, these evil digimon were really beaten by… my partner!"

She turned and all of them gawked at the gigantic, majestic beast that slowly began to arise behind her. She smiled as it revealed itself, though partially hidden in shadow. It was strong and magnificent. It was graceful and noble. It was the best digimon a human could ask for. It was her partner.

"Say hello to my partner, everyone. Say hello to—"

"Amanda Fabienne Giroux!" a shrill voiced screeched. "Get out of bed this instant!"

Her eyes went wide at the sound of her name and she threw back the covers on her bed in frustration.

"Ugh… and that was a good dream. Maybe the best one yet," she grumbled.

"Dreamin' about boooys again, Sis?"

She looked over to her door, where her little brother stood, a sneer on his six-year-old face.

"Get out of my room, Philipe!" she shouted. "And I was not having a dream about a boy!"

"Then why is there drool on your pillow?"

She looked down and felt her cheeks burn when she saw the small wet spot on the pillow. After wiping her mouth with her wrist, she grabbed the pillow and lobbed it at her brother, who dodged it and ran down the hall.

"Mama, Mama, Amanda tried to hit me with her drool-pillow!"

"Good, that means she's awake," her mother replied.

She slammed her door shut and went to her dresser to retrieve her black-rimmed glasses. She put them on and looked at herself in the mirror, heaving a sigh as she did so.

"Ugh," she said. In her dreams, she was tall, beautiful, and perhaps a bit fuller figured, with no need for glasses and a perfect complexion. But the girl in the mirror wasn't in the same league. The girl in the mirror was short, plain, with pale skin (and, she noted, the makings of a pimple coming up just below her hairline), and straight, stringy dark brown hair that was now seriously suffering from a case of bed-head.

"Ugh," she said again. "Reality sucks."

She looked around her room as she tried to smooth out her hair. This room was defined by two things: anime and computer parts. In the first case, there were posters, wall-scrolls, and figurines with large-eyed Japanese figures in dramatic poses. There was "Ranma ½" and "Gundam" and "Outlaw Star," not to mention "Card Captor Sakura" and of course "Sailor Moon." As for the computer parts, there was a small desk with a squeaky swivel chair, and atop that desk was a computer with a fan that hummed softly. (The desktop wallpaper, of course, was anime-themed ["Gundam Wing," if you were wondering].) But there were also small parts, fans and PCI cards and processors and at least one power supply, not to mention wires and diodes and other things she'd picked up cheaply from a small store in town solely to tinker with them. Atop her dresser, where some girls kept their jewelry or toys, she kept a small toolbox, perfect for adjustments and configurations on machines of all sizes.

Anime and computers… both of these were of great importance to the young lady who called this room her own.

This young lady was Amanda Fabienne Giroux, age 10; otaku and electronics genius. Born to a French-Canadian father from Quebec and a mother from British Columbia, she lived with them and her younger brother in the town of Roxanne. The town was located in the province of Ontario, just north of the New York border and situated between the cities of Toronto and Ottawa. Few had ever heard of Roxanne, unsurprisingly; the town had a population of 5000 (counting the farms and surrounding areas), and it was conveniently located in such a way that you would never have to drive through it to get where you were going.

As she showered, ate breakfast, and brushed her teeth, she lamented her average, boring life and her average, boring body.

But little did she know that things were about to take a turn for the interesting. This girl, who idolized the Digidestined and was obsessed with digimon since they appeared around the world and in the sky a year earlier, was about to have another encounter.

This was the day that gave rise to hundreds or even thousands of new Digidestined.

This was the day Diaboromon appeared.

"Well class," Ms. Foley was saying, "I'm sure you're all excited about the upcoming summer vacation, but there is still work to be done."

There was a collective murmur through the class as the students babbled about their mixture of excitement and unease. The excitement at the month-long summer break (for this school ran in a cycle of 3 months of school followed by 1 month of vacation) was tempered by the unease of the "work to be done."

Amanda didn't react. She sat back at her desk, casually sketching digimon (badly, for her talent with computers was not matched in the arts) in the margins of her notes. She did react, however, when she felt something small and wet smack her in the back of the head. Reaching back, she made a face as she retrieved the spitball that had stuck to her hair. She turned her head and was met by a group of mischievously grinning faces as one of the boys held up a straw and a handful of more wads of paper.

"Grow up, you brats!" she hissed. "Or at least try to pretend it wasn't you!"

"Amanda, are you listening?" Ms. Foley asked.

"Huh?"

"We're talking about progress reports, could you please pay attention?"

"But I was just talking to—"

"Later."

Amanda crossed her arms as she sulked in her seat, her cheeks burning for the second time that morning amid the snickers of her classmates and whispers of "Dork," "Geek," and the like.

She waited as Ms. Foley passed out classroom progress reports. Though not official report cards, they might as well have been, since there wasn't much left to be graded in the last week of school anyway. The major unknown was the small box at the bottom of the report marked "Parent/Teacher Conference Requested." If you saw a checkmark in that box, you knew you had it coming.

Spinning a pen in her hands while she waited for her name, Amanda knew she had nothing to worry about. She wasn't a discipline problem and her grades were good. Who, after all, could complain about straight A's?

"Amanda Giroux," Ms. Foley called. Amanda went up the aisle, dodging the feet of her classmates as they stuck out in an attempt to trip her. She retrieved the report and turned to walk back, eyeing the grades without much interest, checking them off mentally: A, A, A, A-, A, Parent/Teacher Conference RequesteWHAAAAT?!

"Hey!" she yelled, startling the whole class. "What is this?!"

Ms. Foley cringed. "Amanda, uh, maybe you'd like to—"

"Oh no, no no no, what is this? A conference? What for?"

"Er, Amanda, this might not be the time to—"

"What did I do? You know I didn't do anything wrong, my grades are fine, so why—"

"Amanda!" Ms. Foley said, slamming her hands down on the desk. "Perhaps," she said, emphasizing the words carefully, syllable by syllable through gritted teeth, "you would like to discuss this after class?"

Amanda turned and finally saw the rest of her class eagerly lapping up the outburst.

"Er, sure, fine," she muttered, making her way back to her seat, once again dodging more feet in the aisle.

"Why so glum, chum?" Yvonne asked.

Amanda sighed. "I don't want to be asked that by a goth," she said, offering a weak grin.

"Hey, actions speak louder than words, and my clothes aren't half as loud as the look on your face."

Amanda smiled in spite of her mood. It was lunchtime, and Yvonne, her one real friend at school, was waiting for her at their usual table in the cafeteria. Yvonne was 11, and her black clothes and makeup made her quite a sight around the school. Nobody was sure if she was made fun of because of how she dressed, or if she dressed that way because she was made fun of, but the bottom line was that she and Amanda were the bottom rung on the social ladder for their grades.

"So, how's our resident Geek Chique today?" Yvonne asked, a spoonful of applesauce in her hand.

"Ugh, don't even ask."

"Okay," Yvonne said immediately, continuing her lunch.

"Well, since you did ask," Amanda said hastily, "Ms. Foley wants a conference with my parents."

Yvonne said nothing, but chewed a french fry lazily. She swallowed and said, "Go on."

"I have no idea why. I've got A's in everything, even gym—"

"Mon Dieu, it's a miracle!"

"—and I haven't been in trouble for anything. She wouldn't say, she just wanted to talk to my parents. In fact, she told me she already called them. She's seeing them tonight."

"Right, they're doing conferences through the next week. Fun times. Well, sucks to be you."

"You're a lot of help, Yvonne," Amanda said gloomily.

"Ooh, well here's something that might lift your spirits," Yvonne said. "Look who's coming."

The two of them saw a boy from Yvonne's grade named Leon. He was tall for his age, tan, with shining blonde hair and blue eyes. In a few years, he'd look like a Californian surfer. His family had a farm just outside of town and he was well known for his easy-going attitude and skills on the school's hockey team in the winter season. He was walking to the far side of the cafeteria, but to get there he was walking right by their table. As their gazes followed him, he slowed and – neither of them could believe it – moved for their table.

"Hey," he said, coming over to them.

"H-hey," Amanda muttered, looking down.

"What's new, Leon?" Yvonne asked. She looked far calmer than Amanda, but they both knew her heart was fluttering just as much.

"The usual. Say, Amanda—"

"YES?"

"I, uh," he stammered, startled at the suddenness of her answer. "I, uh, heard you've been organizing some Counter-Strike after school in the computer lab."

"OH… YES, I HA-" she choked back her words and managed to calm herself slightly. "Y-yes, I have been. Why?"

"Think maybe I could come play sometime?"

Amanda's eyes went wide. "Uhhhhh—"

"Oh, if not, then—"

"No!" she said. "I mean, yes! Of course you can come play with me! Us! I mean us! We've got a game going today!"

"Oh," he said, looking disappointed. "I can't today. My dad wants me to help out on the farm," he said, rolling his eyes. "Later this week?"

"Well, w-we usually only play once a week, so, how about next week?"

Leon looked confused. "But… there's no school next week."

Amanda slapped her forehead. She forgot about summer vacation. "Right, right. How about next month? Are you free next month?"

"I… don't know, it's… I mean, it's a month from now."

"R-right, well, I uh… uh…" she felt her cheeks redden. Stop blushing, you idiot! she told herself.

"How about a raincheck, Leon?" Yvonne said, intervening in this little disaster.

Leon nodded, his smile returning. "Sounds good." With a friendly wave of his hand, he went on his way to join his friends.

"Ohhh myyy gawwwd," Amanda moaned, slamming her face down on the table once Leon was out of earshot. "What the heck is wrong with me? 'Are you free next month?' I'm an idiot."

"A genius idiot," Yvonne said wryly. "You are quite the paradox, Amanda Giroux."

"That's just a nice way," said a new voice, "of saying 'Dork.'"

They looked up and saw a girl named Tara approaching their table, three girls in her entourage right behind her. With sly, knowing grins, they came up to them, all wearing clothes more fashionable than any girls their age had a right to wear.

"Oh, good," Amanda muttered dryly. "I was waiting for the cherry on this crap sundae."

"So, listen," Tara said, "my friends and I make four people, but there are no round tables left. If we go to the long tables to sit, we might have to split up, and I'm not sitting next to one of the losers."

Amanda and Yvonne stared up at her. "So," Yvonne began, "does that make you a self-hating lo—"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, this isn't a conversation, Count Dracula," Tara said, holding up a hand (a bit close to Yvonne's face). "You and four-eyes here can just be polite and let us have this table."

"Huh?" Amanda said. "But… but we were here first!"

Tara looked down at her, a new iciness in her eyes. Presently the other girls in her group surrounded their table. Some others in the cafeteria began to notice them gathering.

"Listen carefully," Tara said. "You can move now, or we can make this a scene."

Yvonne scowled at her. "If you think you and your conformist—"

"Hey, look at this, everyone!" Tara yelled, getting attention from the surrounding tables. "Looks like the vampire and her minion don't want us to break up their party!"

There was a chorus of chuckles and Yvonne sighed as she stood up, picking up her food tray. Amanda followed suit, realizing it might be best to surrender. But apparently Yvonne had ideas of her own.

"Funny," she said, also loud enough to be heard by the surrounding crowd. "You call me a vampire because of how I dress. But look at what you're wearing."

"Me?" Tara demanded. "I'm wearing—"

"LUNCH!" Yvonne shouted, flinging her tray of food at Tara before wildly laughing and slapping the others' trays out of their hands. She drew cheers and laughter as she grabbed wads of food and rubbed it in the hair of her shrieking prey. All the commotion finally got the attention of the cafeteria staff who finally stepped outside to intervene. They pulled the crazed goth girl off of Tara and her food-splattered cronies. As Yvonne was dragged off, laughing all the way, she caught sight of Leon stifling a laugh and offering her a thumbs-up. Yvonne smiled in return as she let herself be carried off.

Amanda had already retreated amid the struggle, wondering if anyone had noticed her toss her food tray onto Tara as well. She thought not, but it was worth it, even if she would go hungry that afternoon.

"Gentlemen!" she shouted. "Welcome to the last Counter-Strike LAN party of the semester!"

There was a small round of applause. She was in the computer lab with a dozen other players gathered around a small island of computers in the center of the room. On each side were the designated teams. The players were all fellow elementary school students, mostly other geeks or just avid gamers, who had joined her covert group. The installation of software on school computers was forbidden, and a violent first-person shooter mod was likely to get unwanted attention. To keep from being noticed, they wore headphones at all times to hide the sound of gunfire and had a rule of keeping their voices down. They also usually employed a lookout. She was the only girl there and they knew it was all her idea.

She'd originally come up with the plan as a way to win friends and perhaps expand her social circle. Unfortunately, elementary school being what it was, she really only got a bunch of boys to play and outside of this little gathering, they never really spoke to each other. Much like teammates or coworkers who get along, but don't hang out afterwards, the Counter-Strike group existed in this tiny lab and nowhere else. It also didn't help that all of the boys in the group were just a little resentful of the fact that Amanda regularly kicked their butts and couldn't resist gloating about it. For now, however, there was an even bigger annoyance than Amanda's showboating to deal with...

"Why can't I play?" Philipe asked.

She looked over to her younger brother with disdain. "Because we need a lookout and today I'm asking you to do it. I let you borrow my Game Boy, so all you have to do is sit outside and play and knock when you see a teacher coming."

"But why meee?" he whined.

"Look," she sighed, "last time I let you play with us, you cried every time you died and threw a fit when your team lost. If you want to be treated like a big boy, then first you need to do us a favor and act like it."

"Let me play!" he demanded petulantly. "Besides, girls aren't supposed to play gun games, that's boy stuff!"

She ignored that. "The other guys want to play and it's the last game of the semester. If you do a good job today, I'll let you play next semester, Philipe."

"You suck, Sis," he said, reluctantly taking the Game Boy and walking outside to assume his post as lookout.

"Now, where were we?" she said.

"Counter-Terrorists Win," the game declared as Amanda's team exchanged grins and high-fives. She smugly noted the impressive kill count next to her avatar's name: "BestDDAmanda."

After ten minutes, her team had already won a Hostage map and a VIP-protecting map, she had been on the Counter-Terrorist side both times, and the next map was loading. It was a Bomb map, and her team of Counter-Terrorists had to either prevent a bomb from being placed or defuse it if it was placed.

"Hey, Amanda," said one of the boys on the other side, "think you can win without camping this time?"

She stuck her tongue out at him. "Just for that," she said, "you die first."

The map loaded, and this time the other team was better organized. She had a bomb defusal kit ready, and it was a good thing, because her teammates began to die left and right.

"Look out, Amanda, they're—"

"Don't give it away," Amanda said, holding her hand up. "I'd rather lose than cheat, and dead people don't talk to their teammates."

"The bomb has been planted," the game announced.

"Oh crap crap crap…"

It was down to her and one teammate—

BANG

"Dang it!"

-it was down to just her versus three on the other team, and the bomb was beeping ever faster, indicating it was about to explode.

"Okay, guys, we got this," one of the Terrorists said. "We just have to—"

BANG

"—OH COME ON!"

"Relax, we've still got two of us left."

"Dude, grenade, move!"

"Oh, sh—"

BOOM

"I can't believe she killed us all, this is so stupid!"

"Dude, calm down," his teammate said. "She still has to defuse the bomb."

Both teams watched their screens as Amanda frantically searched the area for the bomb. She found it and her team held their breath as she began to defuse it, the beeping of the bomb becoming a rapid staccato.

"She's going to do it. She— oh crap!"

"Relax," she said confidently, watching the defuser progress bar go forward. "I've got this."

"No, Amanda, I—"

A hand seized hers just as the defuser bar was nearly at the end, interrupting the process. She looked up into the face of a very angry Ms. Foley.

"What?" she cried. "But how did you know?"

Then she looked behind Ms. Foley and saw Philipe with an evil grin on his face. He reached over and yanked the headphones out of their jack just as the beeping finally came to an end. An earth-shattering KABOOM reverberated throughout the room as the bomb exploded.

"Terrorists Win," the game announced.

"Young lady," her father was saying, "I am not going to argue with you."

"Look, it is not a big deal, Papa," Amanda was saying. Her busting at the hands of her little brother was added to the things to discuss with Ms. Foley that evening, and now she was at home, unofficially grounded until her parents returned from the conference.

"Your mother and I will discuss this with you when we get home," he said in his French-tinged English. His tone indicated that he was neither angry nor disappointed, but he still managed to sound intimidating. He was putting on a tie as he prepared to go with his wife to see Ms. Foley at the school. "I want to know the whole story. After we've heard from Ms. Foley, we will hear your side of the story."

"And THEN you'll punish me anyway," she said with a sigh.

"I must call the country of Drama," her father said with a grin, "and tell them we have their Queen."

"Har har," she said.

"I think I am more than fair with you, so you will give me a chance to be fair. Your mother and I will punish you IF you deserve it."

He walked out of the room and left Amanda to return to hers. She noted Philipe trailing her.

"You got bu~uste~ed!" he said in his most obnoxious, sing-songy way.

"Yes. Yes I did," she said, growling at him as she turned on her computer. "Thanks for that."

"Next time maybe you'll let me play."

She stared at him. "You are so stupid."

"I'm not stupid!"

"You are. There won't be a next time, thanks to you, ya little brat. And if, by some miracle, there is a next time, why the heck would we invite you? You just failed the one test I put in front of you. I said you could play next time if you just warned us a teacher was coming and instead you deliberately FOUND a teacher to tattle on us. No more Counter-Strike for us, so no more for you."

"But… but… no fair!"

"Yeah, way to shoot yourself in the foot, little brother," she said, feeling slightly better as he stomped away. "Now, where was I in my fanfic? Ah, yes, Sanosuke had just confessed his love to Kenshin…"

While Amanda was indulging herself in fantasies of hot, passionate boy love, there were two other events of interest taking place. The first one was going on half a world away, in Japan.

"Who are those strange people?" Tai asked Matt through the computer as he and Izzy stared into it.

"They're not strange," Matt said, as he and TK stood in the barbershop in their grandmother's small town in the countryside. "They're my friends!" He leaned in, adding in a whisper, "At least they are as long as they let us use their computer."

The four of them were up against a strange digimon named Infermon that had invaded the internet, rapidly eating data to evolve, throwing computer systems into chaos around the country and, indeed, the world.

"Okay, we'll tell Gennai to send in Gabumon and Patamon," Izzy said.

"All right," Tai said, pulling his goggles down. "Let's take this virus digimon down!"

The other event of interest was not half a world away, but an entire world away. In the frozen glacial area in the north of the Digital World, not far from the sea, a lone Penguinmon was staring down a pack of three Gizamon.

"Look, I'm sorry, but I wasn't able to catch enough for all of you today," Penguinmon said.

"That's too bad, but the deal's the same," one Gizamon said.

"Yeah, either you get us all the fish we ask for," said another, "or we beat the tar out of you."

The third stepped forward. "It's looking like it'll be the latter today. Spiral Saw!"

The Gizamon rolled into a ball and came at Penguinmon like a flying buzzsaw.

"Super Slap!" he attacked, using his flipper to knock the Gizamon away, only to be struck by his two friends immediately afterwards, receiving a few nasty cuts in the process.

"Three on one are horrible odds, Penguinmon," one taunted. "You might as well just roll over and let us give you a quick beating. We promise we won't hurt you too bad. After all, you still have to catch us some fish for tomorrow!"

As they laughed, Penguinmon stood up wearily. "You're right," he said. "That'd be the smart thing to do."

Suddenly he turned tail and flopped on his belly, rocketing away on the slippery ice like a motorized sled. "But I'm feeling stupid today!" he yelled back, laughing as he went.

"After him!" one of the Gizamon shouted, as all three rapidly gave chase.

"'…And as Kenshin stared deeply into Sanosuke's eyes,'" she said, reading her own words as she went, "'the young warrior leaned in and whispered—"

The computer suddenly went BEEP! and the entire screen went blank.

"—F*CK!"

"I'm telling, Sis!" Philipe yelled from his room.

The story was completely gone, but she stared at her computer screen intently. Several windows were open and her eyes went wide at what she was witnessing.

"Digimon…" she breathed. "The Digidestined are…"

There they were. The heroes who had appeared in the sky fighting Apocalymon, the ones whose heroics had saved the world and captivated her imagination, the ones who occupied her dreams were right there on the screen. Each human and digimon appeared in a separate window and it was obvious that some sort of battle was taking place.

"Patamon, you better digivolve too!" shouted TK.

"No way, I get to see him become Angemon?" she cried.

"Patamon digivolve to…"

"Oh no you don't," Infermon said, launching himself upwards. "Infermon digivolve to… Diaboromon!"

"Look out!" Amanda screamed. But he couldn't hear her, so she could only look on as Diaboromon seized Patamon with one hand and then Tentomon with another. She watched, her heart thundering, as WarGreymon and MetalGarurumon went after Diaboromon. But despite their best efforts, they were taking a thrashing. Then, out of nowhere, Tai Kamiya's window went blank and WarGreymon froze up completely, leaving him at Diaboromon's mercy.

As she watched this, a quick check on various chat rooms allowed her to catch up on what was happening. "He's eating data? Hey, that jerk Diaboromon ate my fanfic!" she exclaimed, her blood boiling. "And he's making a fool out of the Digidestined? Someone needs to teach that stupid virus a lesson!"

Then she got an idea. She looked around her cluttered room and remembered the various things she had stored on her own computer. If she moved fast, she could do something to help, but not with her computer by itself. Before she left, she wrote off a quick email:

"Go, Digidestined! You can beat that evil Diaboromon, and I think I can help!

"Peace and Love, Amanda Giroux from Canada."

As she gathered her things up, Philipe finally took notice of what she was doing.

"Where are you going, Sis?"

"None of your business, brat," she said. "Go to bed."

"I'm gonna come with you," he said.

"Ohhhh no you're not."

"If you don't take me with you, I'm gonna tell again."

Amanda froze and looked over to him. "Not this time." He backed away as she slowly approached him, her gaze burning. "You are not screwing this one up."

"Sit down Mr. and Mrs. Giroux," Ms. Foley was saying.

"Come on, Helen," said Mrs. Giroux, "there's no need for titles. I see you all the time, we're practically neighbors."

"Well, I don't want to play favorites," she said. "Listen, just because we're old friends doesn't change the fact that I'm Amanda's teacher."

The three of them were seated in Amanda's classroom, Ms. Foley behind her desk as Mr. and Mrs. Giroux sat in a pair of chairs before her. The classroom was empty of students and the light outside was slowly getting darker as the insects of summer and various nocturnal wildlife of the pine forest began to stir.

"Of course," Mr. Giroux was saying. "So, let's just get to the heart of the matter. What is the problem with our daughter?"

"Well, she has several notable problems. Her social standing, her behavior, her friends," Ms. Foley began.

"And her grades?" Mr. Giroux said, interrupting her.

"What? Well, that's not really—"

"She showed us the report," Mr. Giroux said.

"Honey," Mrs. Giroux said, giving him a look.

"No, no, let's talk about her grades first," Mr. Giroux insisted.

Ms. Foley smiled. "Wesley, Anne… She's brilliant. You don't need me to tell you that."

Mr. Giroux folded his arms smugly while Mrs. Giroux offered a smile. Indeed Ms. Foley did not need to tell them that their daughter was brilliant. She was doing multiplication at age 3, readily able to read specs on cars in her father's issues of Popular Mechanics by age 5, and was teaching herself about computer programming and repair by the age of 8 after endearing herself to the owner of the computer parts store downtown. This was also when she started causing great problems for her teachers as she passed up recess to work in the school computer lab to run her experiments, which finally caused her family to buy a computer for her to use at home. Neither of her parents had any demonstrable abilities above the average, but apparently the family genes had combined in just such a way to make Amanda naturally gifted. She understood things she was told or things she read immediately and more than a few people had commented on her being like a miniature adult when she was a toddler. Getting compliments from teachers was nothing new.

"She's the best student in the class as far as grades are concerned," Ms. Foley continued. "She struggles in gym and art, but she does her work. She had a few close calls in science and geography, but that's only because she's clearly a bit… well, bored. I'm pretty certain that she didn't even study for the last few tests and she still knew every answer. She was done in minutes."

"I knew it," Mr. Giroux said.

"Wesley, you promised," Mrs. Giroux said in warning.

"Yes, yes, of course, I'm sorry," he said.

Ms. Foley rubbed her eyes. Parents never liked hearing bad news about their kids, and it was pretty clear that Mr. Giroux took extra pride in his little girl. It was a lucky thing that Anne Giroux was keeping an open mind or this would be a complete uphill battle.

"Look, nobody's going to argue that she's not very very intelligent. I don't like to throw words like 'genius' around, but she's pushing me in that direction. The things she knows, no 10-year-old should know. I mean, we all know about her work in the Science Fairs..."

The Roxanne Elementary School Science Fair was held every year for students in the 2nd through 6th grades. In the 2nd grade, Amanda had submitted a homemade remote-controlled car and won 2nd place. In the 3rd grade, she had designed a miniature robotic cat and mouse (made from a computer mouse) in a maze. The cat and mouse stored paths of the maze in their memory and could follow residual heat signatures left by the other as they tried to catch or evade their counterpart. That project won her First Prize. And finally, this previous year, Amanda had produced what she claimed was a real working digimon detector, capable of identifying if a digimon was present within 50 meters. Unfortunately, as there were no digimon present, there was no proof it did anything, and nobody present could follow her explanation well enough to tell if it was real or just her overactive imagination, so it received no award at all. She was genuinely crushed, as she figured it was a shoe-in, and the most original idea at the fair. Her parents and teachers took it as a sign that her obsession with digimon had crossed a line.

Mrs. Giroux nodded as she recounted all this. "She is… industrious, isn't she?"

Ms. Foley considered correcting that as insidious after discovering her covert computer lab activity, but held her tongue. "She's very talented, yes, but as I was saying, she has several problems that are not related to her schoolwork."

Mr. Giroux opened his mouth but a nudge from his wife caused him to pause before saying, reluctantly, "Go on."

"She's a know-it-all, in basic terms. She has no patience for her other classmates and delights in showing how much smarter she is. She has NO friends except for that Yvonne girl, and honestly I don't think that she's a good influence."

"What's wrong with Yvonne?" Mrs. Giroux asked.

"She's very… dark," Ms. Foley said, finding it safest. "She doesn't appear to be on any drugs, but it's clear that she deliberately fights against anything she perceives as conventional. She just had a fight today with one of the other girls."

"Which one?" Mr. Giroux asked.

"That's not—"

"Which one?" he repeated.

Ms. Foley sighed. "Tara."

"Ahh," both Mr. and Mrs. Giroux intoned.

"Okay, I know Amanda doesn't like her, but Yvonne is teaching her to fight or confront a bully instead of just ignoring her."

"The last time Amanda ignored Tara," Mr. Giroux said, his face growing dark, "she was followed all the way home, called every name under the sun, and walked into the house in tears."

Ms. Foley nodded, sympathetic. "I'm very sorry about that, Wesley. It breaks my heart. Still, we can't encourage fighting. And among girls, it's just… well, you know what I mean."

"Not really," Mr. Giroux said.

"I do," Mrs. Giroux said. "But let's move on. What else concerns you?"

"Aside from her poor ability to socialize with her peers? She has such strange hobbies."

Mr. Giroux leaned forward, challenging her, daring her, to call his daughter "strange" again.

Little did Mr. and Mrs. Giroux know that their daughter was in the building at that very moment. Since the school was open for conferences, she managed to sneak inside and make her way to the computer lab once again. The room was dark and the door was locked, but, unbeknownst to the staff at Roxanne Elementary, she had a copy of the computer room key on hand. (As her mother said, she was "industrious.") She made her way inside and swiftly began connecting the various computers together, networking them all into one another and making, for all intents and purposes, a supercomputer. Not a particularly strong one, but good enough for what she was after.

She loaded some programs into her main console and logged onto the internet, quickly finding Diaboromon's path as he tunneled through the data. It had apparently left Tai, Matt, and the others behind as it progressed through the network, but she was ready for it.

"Let's see how you like this script, you big, fanfic-gobbling jerk!"

Diaboromon flew swiftly though the tunnel deep within the network, the colorful lights and flashing symbols passing by him as he moved toward his next target: the Pentagon.

Suddenly the door ahead of him slammed shut and a screen opened up. A young human girl's face appeared before him. "Not so fast!" she cried.

"What in the world is this?" he asked, his demonic voice an electronic growl.

"Uhm," she said, momentarily intimidated. "I... I am Amanda Fabienne Giroux, and I'm going to stop you!"

A door nearby slid open and a black, spiraling entity appeared. It whirred and clanked and moved toward Diaboromon threateningly, looking a bit like a cross between a gyroscope, a snail, and the Tin Man from "The Wizard of Oz."

"Wow, I didn't think it'd look like that. Oh well, meet my custom-made Virus-Buster! The Battousai-XXAFG program will—"

Diaboromon swatted it out of his way, slamming it against the wall of the tube it was in. The panel on his chest glowed as he called out his attack, "Web Wrecker!" and blasted the program into dust.

"No!" she cried. "You jerk, do you have any idea how hard I worked on that?" Diaboromon glowered at the girl in the screen.

"Don't interfere, human," he snarled. "That was an impressive effort, but I don't have time to deal with you. Since you think you're somehow involved with this, I'll give you what you want. But just be prepared for… unforeseen consequences."

Back in the computer lab, Amanda backed away from Diaboromon's face, suddenly feeling very frightened. She wasn't sure what he meant, but suddenly all the lights in the computer lab and all the computer screens rapidly began to flash.

"What?" she asked uncertainly. "What's happening?..."

Meanwhile, outside, all the streetlights, all the TVs, every electronic device in the entire city of Roxanne began to blink on and off before finally every single one shut down, plunging the city into total blackness and total silence, aside from the confused and angry shouts of its citizens.

A few of the more observant ones who looked outside swore they saw what looked like Aurora Borealis shimmering in the night sky overhead for a few minutes after the blackout.

"And that sums up my thoughts on the situation," Ms. Foley was saying a few moments prior.

"Now look," Mr. Giroux said, getting indignant, "I understand that Amanda is a bit different and her habits may not be typical for girls her age, but that says to me that she should be treated like a mature person, not a child. We shouldn't punish her for being different."

"Wesley," Ms. Foley sighed, "I really don't recommend moving her up a grade. That would make her even more of an outcast. Besides, her problem is that she lacks maturity, she can't handle a higher age group!"

"Well, I disagree," said Mr. Giroux. "We've been hearing that for years, and we've listened, but she's tired of dealing with kids who aren't on her level and I'm sure if she was at a higher grade level she would learn how to behave from older kids. Nothing you've described tells me she has problems, and it's not like she's caused problems for anyone else."

That's when the lights began flashing and finally went out and a familiar voice cried out, "Noooooo!" from down the hallway.

"Oh no," Mr. Giroux sighed.

As he and the other teachers and parents made their way toward the computer lab, hearing the frantic cries and frustrated screams, he hoped that it was just another child with a very very VERY similar voice to his own daughter—

"Amanda?" Ms. Foley said, holding up a flashlight and shining it into the computer lab.

Amanda looked up and saw very large group of parents and teachers, among them her own parents, standing in the doorway. "Papa? Mama?"

"Oh, Amanda," Mrs. Giroux groaned.

"Before you go blaming me," Amanda said hastily, "th-this wasn't my fault. You can just blame an evil digimon on the internet."

Mr. Giroux stepped forward. She couldn't see his face, but his tone of voice indicated barely-contained rage. "Amanda," he said. "We are leaving. You are going to get your things and get in the car. Then, on the way home, you can tell us where your brother is."

"I cannot believe this!" Mrs. Giroux shrieked once they got home. They were in her room. Mrs. Giroux stood while Amanda sat sullenly on her bed. "You blacked out the entire town, broke into the school, vandalized their computers twice, and on top of all that, you duct-taped your brother to the wall!"

"Well, the power came back on. Oh, and I duct-taped a water bottle with a straw next to him," she replied in her defense. "You know, in case he got thirsty."

"Yes, but it seems you forgot that he might have to use the restroom! You think I wanted to come home to that mess?"

Amanda managed to stifle a giggle.

"I want to just crawl in a hole and die!" Mrs. Giroux was saying. "Do you have any idea how upset your father and I are?"

"I'm… I'm sorry, Mama," she said, looking down.

"Oh not yet, you're not!" She took a deep breath. "You are grounded for a month."

"But that's almost all of summer vacation!"

"Good point. Let's just make it all of summer vacation."

"That's not—"

Mrs. Giroux stepped forward, her eyes slowly filling with angry tears. Amanda had never seen her mother so angry and decided, wisely, that this was not the time to discuss her punishment.

"Okay, Mama," she said. "I'm sorry."

Mrs. Giroux heaved a sigh, composed herself, and left the room, gently shutting the door behind her.

Reclining in her swivel chair, Amanda took stock of her day. "Well," she said to herself, "today was pretty much the worst day ever."

"Get back here, birdbrain!" the Gizamon shouted.

Penguinmon was getting tired. True, he was built for speed on the ice, but the three Gizamon were no slouches and apparently got a lot of exercise from beating up other defenseless digimon. They weren't wearing out in the slightest, but he was getting short of breath. Still, he knew the ocean was getting close, and once he was in the water, he was home free. All he needed to do was make it over one more icy hill and slide down.

He reached the peak and began to slide down when a large glowing circle appeared before him. It was a swirling portal of some kind and he realized his momentum was carrying him right toward it.

"Oh fishsticks!" he shouted, trying to slow himself with the claws on his flippers.

"Gotcha now, birdbraiiiohcrudwhatisthat?!" exclaimed a Gizamon as he and his cohorts pounced on Penguinmon. All four of them slid down the icy hill and into the portal. They were pulled into a swirling vortex, feeling like they were caught in a whirlpool, drawn into a spinning cyclone that broke Penguinmon free of their grip as he veered off in one direction, leaving them to go in another.

Amanda was lying in bed asleep. Her sleep was fitful and she tossed and turned under the covers, the events of the day haunting her dreams. In her mind, there was an ever turning slide show of Tara, her angry parents, her friend being dragged off, her teacher, and her dumb classmates… and then in her mind's eye she saw something small, square, and electronic appear in a beam of light. It slowly came into focus as she reached for it.

"A… digivice?" she breathed.

She opened her eyes and was surprised to see that, while the digivice wasn't there, the bright beam of light was. It was emanating from her computer monitor, bathing her room in a brilliant light. And then, phasing through the screen with a water-like ripple, a figure began to emerge. It slowly floated outward, spreading its wings.

Is that a bird? she wondered. It's so… so… fat?

The light subsided, leaving only the glow of her normal monitor's screensaver to shimmer over the darkened room. The figure dropped to the carpeted floor with a heavy plop.

She carefully crawled out of bed and went to the figure, picking it up to have a better look at it.

"Ohhhh my god, it's a digimon!" she exclaimed, managing, somehow, to keep her voice down. She held it up, her expression one of pure joy.

Penguinmon slowly opened his eyes and saw, for the very first time, a human girl. She was looking at him with what he thought was either madness or extreme hunger.

"Gah! Super Slap!" he shouted, and smacked her with a flipper so hard that she dropped him and fell to the floor.

In the dark forest surrounding the town, another portal appeared, illuminating the forest with a bright light, momentarily frightening the wildlife from their hiding spots in the shadows. When the light subsided, a large, hairy creature was left alone in the woods. As it looked around, taking in its surroundings, it said to itself, "I'm on... Earth?" It began to chuckle. "I'm a digimon on Earth."

In the distance, it saw the dim streetlights of Roxanne and, with heavy footsteps echoing throughout the night air, began to approach the sleepy town, a toothy grin on its face.

To be continued…

Next time: Amanda and Penguinmon may be getting off on the wrong foot, but both of them will find themselves caught up in something far bigger than either of them could have imagined. Please leave a review and let me know what you think!